I Help"
by Scarlet Lady
Summary: A continuation of the story line that began with "Reflections"


I Help!

By Scarlet Lady

*Disclaimer: Don't sue! I just borrowed these characters, and I promise to give them back when Marvel starts doing a better job with them. 

Author's comments: I don't often have a lot to say here, mostly just an acknowledgement of my gratitude to those who wrote and stroked my ego with their kind words. But there's a special thank you that needs to be said. This story wasn't written by me. Well, okay, so I did the typing, but there was someone who encouraged, supported and made me dig deeper inside of myself as I wrote. Sparky – the story wouldn't have been written without your invaluable insights. For those following the story, she's the one who made me start typing again. She wields a mean hatpin. You can thank her at Sparkyjoes@yahoo.com

This chapter is for everyone whose asked, pleaded, begged and downright ordered me to get with it and continue the story :)

Chapter One

Sitting sideways on the narrow window seat, with his cheek pressed against the pre-dawn coolness of the glass, Remy's thoughts drifted towards the mansion not so very many miles away. His face felt hot and puffy, an emotional legacy of his early morning dreams.

He pulled his knees to his chest; wrapping his arms around them, and leaned against the window frame. God, he hated this. His now almost nightly dreams were killing him by inches. Continually, they would show him his one-time family, the X-Men, allowing him to be among them again, to feel like he belonged. Like he was one of them. And then he'd wake up, alone and hurting.

He wanted to go home, if only just once. He didn't delude himself into thinking he could stay there, but he just wanted to see...well, *feel* them. He missed Logan. He missed his Stormy. Jean and Henry. He missed *her*. He even missed Scott, and that particular thought caused a slight uptilt at the corner of his mouth. 

He wasn't the same Gambit who'd once upon a time been one of the team; the one who'd done his level best to annoy Scott in any way he could devise, and a few that had just been plain lucky shots. A half-hearted chuckle worked its way free at the diabolical genius some of his stunts had shown. Scott was always such a boyscout, Remy thought quasi-affectionately. He'd badly needed someone to totally lose his cool with occasionally. He wondered why noone else had ever seen that. Scott was as human as any one of them, but his style of leadership demanded 24 hour a day absolute control. 

Remy could tell soon after following Storm home that Scott would crack sooner or later. The signs had all been there; he'd been there himself, and he could see them in Scott without even looking hard. Being the new guy on the block, it was probably more apparent to him than to those closest to Scott, and they might not have seen the tiny changes that occurred over a long period of time. Being a part of a team was new to him, and he hadn't fully trusted the almost strangers to listen, and **hear** him. So, he gave Scott a target, or pressure valve, if you will. Of course, it had to be orchestrated so that noone blamed Scott for picking on him. And so that Scott didn't feel guilty about it either. 

Sure, he'd done it on purpose, but that didn't mean he hadn't enjoyed every single second of watching the unflappable Scott red faced and fuming with temper. It had worked to an extent with the rest of the team, too. They'd all managed to get more than a little annoyed with him, but he knew they hadn't really been angry. Well, he'd thought they hadn't. 

"Jus' goes to show what you know, homme." His slight smile disappeared. "Merde. Dis is jus plain dumb, Remy LeBeau. You wan' to go home, an' you already know you can' stay dere, so what you waitin' on, eh? Jus' go an' get it over wit'!"

Because buried beneath the layers of apprehension and unhappiness, he *did* want to stay. And he didn't know how that could possibly happen. He'd been living in this apartment for months, trying to scrape up the grit to write, call, anything. More than he wanted his next breath, he wanted to be part of the team again, and to have things like they were before, but that was never going to happen. 

There was no room in the X-Men for a person who couldn't carry his own weight, and who would be a burden instead of an asset. He couldn't see how his empathy would be of any use, and while his fighting instincts were intact, his body could no longer respond in the needed ways. Slowly he rubbed his fingertips together. He could no longer close his hand into a fist, nor could he manipulate small objects with the dexterity he needed to use his mutant ability offensively. No, it didn't matter what that letter had said, there was no way they could actually want him back. They'd have no place for him.

His dreams, however, were increasing in frequency, and giving him no peace. So which was better, to sit here day after day both living for and dreading his nighttime dreams, or to go back and let them see the truth for themselves? He wished he knew.

It used to be easy to decide things. It was something you just **did**, based on your experience and judgement. The events of the last couple of years had deeply shaken his belief that he could trust either. If something came up that required an immediate resolution, Remy found himself starting to panic. If he could just take some time, he usually managed to work his way through the problem, but quick answers and snap judgements were a thing of the past for him.

The early morning sun was beginning to heat the window. Slowly it warmed him, and he turned his face more fully towards it. He stretched, much like a sleepy cat would do in the small patch of sunshine, luxuriating in its warmth. 

The heat was ennervating, and an odd apathy settled over him. So what did it matter what they thought? He'd go, and get it out of his system. It would be better this way. He wouldn't have to worry about what they were going to think; finally, he'd know. And maybe it was time to say goodbye to them, and just get it over with. He knew he was living too much in his fantasies of what he wished could be. Time for a reality check.

The corners of his mouth briefly tightened. He'd hung on to the past far longer than was sane. "Need to fin' a place where *I* belong. 'De me I am now, not somebody I don' remember, anymore."

It was his memories that were causing the dichotomy. He'd always reached for the stars, trying to attain the impossible. Using the X-Men to whitewash his past was one impossibility, and God knew that Rogue had been another.

Remy didn't want to stand in front of Rogue as he was now. He'd been stripped of everything that had worth in her eyes. His looks, his abilities, and, for a time, his self respect.

Dakota had given him back a portion of that, but he didn't expect Rogue to see it. The Rogue he knew never looked below the surface. To her, what you saw was what you got. A nice illusion, he supposed, but people were never that uncomplicated. Not even Rogue herself.

He was totally clueless as to why he loved that woman. She needed him, or so he'd thought. All his life he'd waited for someone to need **him**, and not for what he could do. If somebody needed you, it meant that you had value, that you were somebody. He'd never been so off base before. That was his biggest ever mistake in judgement. In Seattle, Rogue had made it quite clear that she didn't need anyone, least of all him.

Never would he open himself to that degree of pain again. Not in this lifetime, anyways. He still didn't remember what had happened right after she'd flown off, leaving him standing alone in the rain. Maybe he never would. He'd wandered around in an emotional blackout for several days. Nothing had registered, not where he was, not where he'd been, and not where he was going. The wounds she'd inflicted has slowly scarred over, but had not truly begun healing until Dakota.

He knew that now he wasn't all that weak, not like he'd been, but he also knew he wasn't strong enough to survive rejection a second time. There would be no Dakota to pull him from his downward spiral. If she savaged him again, he'd have risked his pitifully small store of self-worth for nothing.

Every time he managed to just get to the point of scraping himself together enough to make that phone call, thoughts of Rogue would turn him into scattered cubes of jello all over again. Each time, though, made it a little easier to get back to the decision point.

Slowly, he made his way to the kitchen table, where a tattered, disreputable rubber ball made an unusual centerpiece. He picked it up, grabbed his ballcap, glasses and gloves and headed for the park. Maybe some time outside would help.

*Jean, could you please ask Logan to meet me in the library?* Scott asked. 

He idly perused the titles on the shelves of the library while Jean relayed the request, and conveyed Logan's affirmative answer before she returned to helping Storm in her garden. Seems like he never had enough time to read for pleasure anymore. It was always briefings on this and that, until he thought he'd scream from the information overload. Maybe it was time to reorganize some priorities, he thought.

Logan walked in at that moment. "Yeah, boss?" He threw himself into one of the comfortably overstuffed chairs, and resumed chewing on his unlit cigar.

"Hello, Logan." He paused, and gave Logan a look that as much as said this was going to be something he wished he didn't have to ask. "Would you be willing to go check on Remy?" Scott stopped again, then began pacing, as if that would help keep the words flowing. "I thought when he sent his dog here, we'd surely hear from him, but there's been nothing. For months, just…nothing, and I can't stand it. The team can't stand it. There's this …gap… where he was that hasn't gone away. I don't want to pressure him, or make him feel pushed in any way, but the team needs some sort of…closure. At least some kind of acknowledgement that he's all right, and not having trouble because of what we did. You have a nose for things like that." He looked almost pleadingly at Logan. "I don't want him to know we're checking up on him, because there's no question but that it would be an invasion of his privacy. It feels like we're doing the wrong thing for all the right reasons, but I just don't know what else to do, Logan."

It was highly unusual to see Scott undecided and unsure, but Logan had been around long enough to know that some situations just don't have simple solutions, and sometimes the wrong decision was the only one you could live with. He stood, crossed the room, and, placing a hand on Scott's shoulder, said "For what it's worth, Cyke, ya got my vote. I'll letcha know what I find out." And with that, he turned, and headed for the door.

Logan exited the library, and headed for the staircase to pick up a couple of things from his room. For this one, he was going civilian. No need to stand out more than he did, or the Cajun would be sure to spot him. *Gonna have ta watch out for that empathy of his, too*, he reminded himself.

He stopped as he spotted Chat sitting squarely in front of the staircase, eyeing Logan consideringly.

Logan had never quite warmed up to Chat. There was just something not right about him. He couldn't put it into words, and he couldn't explain it even to himself, there was just something unusual there.

"Move, dog" he said brusquely, and sidestepped to get around him when Chat didn't. Chat stood, and blocked him again.

"What is yer problem, mutt?" he said, and sidestepped the other way. Again, Chat cut him off.

"Ain't got time to play, comprende? Me'n your old buddy got a date in Canada." Logan started by him once again, only to be stopped dead in his tracks by an unfamiliar voice that wasn't **quite** spoken.

*Not there*, it said. 

Logan didn't waste time stating the obvious. He'd known there was something off kilter about that damn dog since his first day at the mansion.

Logan popped one set of claws, and advanced. "You got two minutes to explain just what the hell your game is, dog. Otherwise, you'n me are gonna be goin' two rounds without a referree."

*Remy not there*, was the only reply he got, as Chat calmly sat back down.

Logan made an abrupt turn, and headed for the small storage room under the stairs. Opening the door, he pointed a lethal finger at the dog, and allowing no room for argument, ordered him into the closet. 

Closing the door behind them, Logan loomed over Chat, and growled "Start talkin', dog, and don't leave nothin' out!"

*Remy here.* Chat stated, and sat down with his eyes focused on Logan. *Remy here long time. Want friends.*

"Well it ain't like he don't know where to find us. What the hell's he waitin' on? Team's been worried like nothin' I've ever seen, and he's sittin' around like some damn prima donna, waitin' on an engraved invite?" Logan had been as concerned as any of the others, but damned if he'd let that show.

*No…* Chat stopped, as if unsure how to say something. *Remy not same. Different.*

"How'nhell do you know he's different? You weren't here when he was."

*You remember, I know.*

"You sayin' you're some kind of doggie telepath?" 

Chat was gifted, but for all that, he was still a dog, and big words still had a tendency to confuse him. 

*Hehn?* It was a word he'd often heard in his time with Remy, and he emphasized it with a cocked ear and tilted head. There were lots of words he'd heard his Remy use that noone here did, but they were the first ones he'd learned, and the easiest for him.

Logan was no stranger to the word, and it cut through his anger with a dizzying sense of déjà vu. The oddness of the situation finally hit him, now that the irritation had faded somewhat.

"So why ain't you with the Cajun anymore? Why'd he send ya here?"

*Remy? Cajun is same Remy? Like Remy better more. Remy best liked me here. Make him more happy.* 

Talking with Chat was much like conversing with a child, and realizing that provoked a much gentler side of Logan than he usually used when he wanted answers from someone. 

"Why would he be happier with you here? Didn't he want you?"

*Need me here. I help.*

"You help? I know we like having you here," a small fib on his part, but all in the interests of getting answers, he figured, "but how can you help Remy if he's there, and you're here?"

*I help.* Chat didn't know how else to explain it, but tried. *Bring him here. See you. Make Remy not be so afraid. Sorry hurt you.*

Logan tried to figure out what Chat was trying to tell him. It sounded like he was saying that he, Chat, would bring Remy to the mansion, and ….what?

"Do you mean you're going to bring Remy here? And show him that we're not mad and he doesn't have to worry anymore?" Logan thought he might have it figured.

*No. I bring him here much. Happy here. Lonely there. He likes better here. Misses all family.*

"Dog, I don't get what you're sayin'. Seems to me you're sayin' he wants to be here, the team wants him here, but he **ain't** here. I plan on solvin' that particular problem. So, if you're sayin' he ain't in Canada no more, then just where is he?"

*Remy _here_.* Chat was getting agitated. It was his first time conversing with his new people, and he'd chosen Logan. Mostly because he was the only one who'd never talked in that ridiculous baby talk to him. Maybe he didn't understand everything about his new people, but he wasn't a puppy anymore! But this wasn't as easy as he'd thought it would be. *Cajun-Remy _here_!* he said again, practically quivering with his frustration, and lack of the words to make Logan understand. His Remy was not happy, and Chat had to help.

"Allright, don't freak out on me, so he's here. Problem is, dog, I don't know where **_here_** is, exactly. Which means that since you do, you get to play seein' eye dog. Pack your doggie bowl, we're gonna go find us a Cajun." And with that, Logan opened the closet door, and strode for the steps, where he'd left his duffle bag, intending to grab it and go.

*Not need bowl, come back sooner dinner. We go now? Yes?* Chat led the way to the door. He had been given a job to do, and that was something serious. He was going to show Logan where to find his friend. Remy would feel not so sad, then. Chat had missed Remy. He missed being cuddled when he was cold, and the hand that rested behind his ears when Remy sat beside him. He missed the small sounds Remy made when sleeping; the sounds that told Chat he wasn't alone in the dark. Rogue was nice, and so were the rest of his new people, but Remy was his, and he wanted him back. 

Chat had thought he was helping by bringing his Remy here, but now his Remy kept feeling sadder and sadder. That made him feel like he'd been a _bad dog_. He knew it hadn't gone so well that first time he'd brought Remy here. He made a mistake, and Logan had gotten burned. He felt bad about that. Chat hadn't understood how Remy's abilities worked, and had let Remy hurt Logan. 

But Remy had wanted so badly to be here. Chat couldn't understand why helping Remy to be here had made him unhappy. It was something about Rogue, but he didn't know exactly what. He'd tried to understand what Remy had said when he talked to him at his new people's gate, but he'd still been learning, and had only in part understood what he'd been told. He knew it must have had something to do with Rogue, because when he'd started bringing Remy here, Remy wouldn't go anywhere near her. He'd gone to Logan and Storm, and then to that funny smelling one, Popsicle-Bobby. He still wasn't exactly sure what that one's name was, it kept changing. Popsicle-Bobby seemed the most often used. Then back to Storm, but never Scott or Rogue. Remy didn't precisely avoid Scott, it was more like Remy didn't seem to see him. His Remy saw Rogue, he was certain. Remy was much sadder for days after seeing her, and wouldn't come visit. 

He'd brought Remy here last night, and he'd gone straight to Storm. Storm had been crying, and Remy didn't want her to. He'd felt Remy wanting to make Storm stop crying, but he couldn't. 

That was what he'd been waiting for. He'd needed Remy to want to make a difference. And while he'd sat outside the door, Scott had asked Logan to find his Remy. It was time for Remy to come home.

****

Remy ducked into the shadows of an elm tree, and let the bark scratch the persistent itch on his back as he slid down to sit at it's base. He wiggled a bit, and sighed in relief as the roughness eased the prickles that were always just out of reach.

He stretched his long legs out in front of him, and crossed his booted ankles. *Leas' I got as far as jeans an' boots again,* He thought with a wry grimace. *'Dose sneakers jus' don' got de same panache.* 

His senses roved out across the nearby area. The park was always alive this time of day. Children rushing to burn off excess energy that their parents could only envy, elderly couples seated on the benches, still finding new thoughts to share with each other. *Wish I could be part of some'ting like dat.* He didn't know if it was being part of a pair that made those special twosomes radiate peace, but he soaked it up like a hungry sponge. He didn't envy them, exactly, but it caused an convoluted ache in his soul. *No, no, _non_! Can' miss what you never had, LeBeau. You dreamin' dreams dat got no place here. You can' handle de dreams you got now, don' go addin' to de mess!* How he wished that his life could be as simple as these childrens were.

*Deiu, LeBeau. Gon' whine some more or figure out how to get your butt in gear, eh?* Here he was, less than a dozen miles from the only place he'd ever considered home, and he must truly love living on the edge, because he couldn't make himself either move away from the precipice or jump.

He rolled the ball he carried against his leg, and for the thousandth time wished he'd never sent Chat away. How ironic that he'd clung so tightly to something that only reminded him of something else. It wasn't just any ball, it was Chat's ball, and a tenuous link to someone very special to him.

*Jus' don' t'ink for a while, homme. Getting' all worked up ain' gonna solve not'ing. You only got a couple of t'ings to decide about, not fifty. Don' go creatin' more problems den you need to, eh?* Only a couple of decisions, but the fear inside him wasn't letting them come easy. He was getting too caught up in the consequences of the decisions to be able to separate fact from wishful thinking. God, where was Dakota when he needed her so badly? She'd encouraged him to keep him going even when his life was in tatters, and he'd lost her before he realized how badly he needed her. What an irony. So in love with Rogue he couldn't see straight, and so caught up in Dakota's memory that he figured he was probably in love with her as well. *An' not either one goin' to reach out a hand and pull you out of your miseries, so jus' quit, yes?* 

What was it going to take to make it all stop? Wants and wishes, and they may as well have been ashes and sand. Neither one was useful. He withdrew deeper into the shadows as his awareness of the sunny day dimmed. *Home. Jus wanna go home.* Like a mantra he was unable to quit repeating, the words hummed in his mind, not allowing themselves to be banished.

*****

Chat looked up at Logan as they hit the foyer of the mansion. *No leash, yes? I not lose you. Please leash no?*

Logan frowned back. "Just how far we goin', mutt? I ain't gonna be the one to tell Cajun I got his damned dog run over by a truck."

*We go here. Toy place. Please we go? Remy not happy sad. Please now? Please?*

"All right, all right. Don't beg. God, I can't stand to see a grown dog beg. Let's go, but if I say stop, you damned well listen, got it?*

Chat managed to twist his canine features into an expression that could only be called sulky. *Yes. Damn it.*

"Just great. Now I gotta explain that I've taught the dam- darned dog to swear." Logan heaved a sigh. "Worse than a two year old," he mumbled under his breath. 

*Two yes me.* Chat perked up, and danced out the door, happy again now that they were moving.

*****

Remy shut down his thoughts, and resting more fully against the serenity of the tree, felt the comfort of just being. The silence in his head was welcome, and a relief. His own thoughts cold set up an infernal din, and he often imagined them banging around, crashing into each other like bumper cars. Lately it had been too many thoughts, running too quickly, never stopping in one place long enough to fully register.

*Cajun-Remy?*

Remy felt a gentle amusement at the name. He hadn't had anybody call him Cajun since Logan….

*Please, Remy? Please my ball? Found you! We play now, yes?* The insistent questions came at him coupled with a cold, very wet nose against his scarred cheek.

"What de hell?" Remy practically exploded from his seat, wondering what new devil's trick had just surprised him. "Who –"

*Me my Remy! Is mememe! Missed you much. Please happy now, my Remy? Missed you large much.*

Remy finally registered the not-voice, about the same time he felt the warmth of a wiggling body pressed hard against his legs.

"Chat…z'at you?" Remy reached a hand out to the tree trunk, needing the stability in a world that suddenly had shifted. "Chat?" His other hand slowly reached out, and he dropped to his knees, hands suddenly trembling with rising hope. "Chat?"

*Is me yes me! My Remy happy now, please? Yes?* Chat was overjoyed that he'd finally found his Remy. He'd gotten a little lost in the park, and though he'd known Remy was nearby, he'd forgotten that wonderful leather-cinnamon smell of his Remy. It wasn't until Remy had become quiet enough to drift a bit that Chat had found him. He'd found his Remy, and his life was complete again. He pressed harder against Remy, offering him his warmth and love. *My Remy. Me. Is right.*

"Chat…" Remy suddenly doubled over the dog, encompassing him in the strongest hug he could manage. "My Chat." His choked throat wouldn't allow more, and Chat gently rested his chin on Remy's shoulder, sharing the emotional storm with him. 

****

From a safe distance, just one of several people in the nearby area, Logan watched the reunion. Not quite close enough to see details, but when Chat had taken off like a bat outta hell, he'd known the Cajun had to be close. He'd slowed up, not wanting Remy to see him until he'd had a chance to do some surveillance of his own.

He saw Chat run an unswerving line straight up to the biggest tree in the park, and stop short, right in front of what he'd thought was a darker shadow, until it's sudden movement revealed Remy.

Remy had reached out to lean against the tree, and only seconds later had dropped to his knees, face buried in Chat's fur.

Logan felt uncomfortable witnessing the Cajun's exposed emotional display. "Don't think I ever saw him show anything he didn't want seen. For sure nothin' as personal as this." Logan was a loner and something of an island unto himself, so he hadn't seen anything odd in Remy's past behavior. But he'd had Jean if he just *had* to talk, or even the Professor. Who did Remy have? Sure, he'd seen Remy talking to Storm, but had he been talking to her, or she to him? Another layer of Remy's personality revealed.

*Well, hell. Came here to find him, and I did. Came here to see if he's allright, and he seems fine. Came here to make the team quit worryin', and they won't till they see for themselves he's in one piece. Simple. Damn Cajun's comin' back with me if I have to shanghai him.*

****

Remy merely breathed, his arms full of warm fur, his mind reveling in this unexpected joy. He slowly rubbed his cheek against Chat, and if face was a little flushed, and his nose a little runny, it was their secret.

"Hey Cajun. 'Bout damn time you came home, don'tcha think?"

Remy froze. That voice….

Chat didn't share Remy's fear. He twisted his head to look up at Logan, and panted happily. *See? Found him! Happy, yes? We go home now? Please? Or play? My Remy best player. Have missed him big large much.*

Remy didn't think it was possible, but he held Chat even tighter, burying his face even deeper in his fur, and hoped that between his ball cap and Chat, Logan wouldn't be able to see his face. "Logan. What you doin' here? Didn' t'ink de park was a fav'rite place for you."

Logan frowned at the huskiness of Remy's voice, but put it down as part of the emotions he'd finally seen the Cajun display a few minutes ago.

"Dog took a notion that today was the day you were gonna come home. I came to make sure you did."

"His name's Chat."

"I figure I knew that, considerin' ya put it on his collar before droppin' him at our gate. You owe us kennel fees, by the way."

"What you really want, Logan? Don' figure you were out strolling just for de pleasure of de evening, no?" Remy kept his hold on Chat, afraid to look up, afraid of Logan's reaction, should he do so.

"Toldja. You're comin' home. You owe it to the team…"

"Non! Don' owe nobody nothin'! Not one damn t'ing! I do jus' fine on my own, an-" In his surge of anger, Remy had risen to his feet, and swivelled to face Logan. The sudden surge of Logan's emotions rippled across him, and his temper abruptly fled, and fear and uncertainty rose swiftly in its place. He slammed his shields shut like his life depended on it. Maybe it did.

Logan simply stood there, shock freezing his eyes to Remy's face. Dozens of questions clamored to be asked, he ran through how, when, who and where, but stopped at why. Oddly enough, the first question to be asked was "Why did this happen to you?" 

Such a query from Logan should have been almost belligerent in tone, as if asking what Remy had done to deserve it. But it wasn't. It was sober, and … questioning? Was **_Logan_** asking why fate had picked on Remy?

Surely Remy was misinterpreting what he heard. The temptation was there to open his shields and find out the truth of the matter, but the temptation was only of token strength next to the fear of doing the same. Confusion was rising in his head, and he was making an effort to keep his thoughts simple, trying to stave off the maelstrom they could easily produce.

Remy dropped a hand to Chat's head, then turned to sit at the base of the tree once again. Chat wasted no time climbing into Remy's lap, just as he'd done when he was a puppy. He leaned against Remy's chest, and Remy rested his cheek against the top of Chat's head.

"Jus' happened, homme. Ain' no reason why, jus' happened. Could ask why not me, no?" So, his secret was out, it seemed. Well, he wouldn't have to sweat it anymore, the worst had happened, and at least Logan wasn't cheering about it. And he'd brought Chat back to him. No, he couldn't be upset or angry when one of his last remaining dreams had just come true.

"Now you seen me, guess you can be goin' on, yes? Only, maybe Chat can stay for 'while? I bring him back later today, d'accord?" Remy didn't want to think of having to walk away from Chat again, but couldn't work through his thoughts with Logan standing there, looking at him with what had to be his typical chilly stare.

"Hell no. I ain't goin' nowhere till you cough up a story about where you been and what the hell happened to you! You up and disappear on us, and cause 'Ro to keep a thundercloud hangin' over the mansion night and day. I ain't seen sunshine for a week, and it stops today. You and that dog got some explainin' to do to Scott, 'cause I ain't gonna go lookin' for ya again, got it?" Logan forgot the questions, remembering instead how upset the team had been the last months, and feeling a rising mad to fill the place worry had occupied until lately.

"Don' recall askin' you to, homme." 

The words were right for Remy, but the tone was off, not near enough sarcasm. And what the heck was up with his voice? No longer the mellow baritone Logan had always heard from the Cajun, now it sounded like he'd swallowed a handful of gravel.

Remy slowly forced himself to pick out and concentrate on just one thought. He did his best to push aside the indecision and hesitation caused by emotional stress, and little by little he reasoned out that he'd been planning to go home, and here someone had eased the way a bit. He didn't have to walk in cold. Logan had seen him, and it didn't seem like the Canadian was angry with him. Not like he'd been when he left. 

Logan waited with growing impatience, watching as Remy just sat there, slowly rubbing his cheek back and forth against the dogs fur. So the Cajun got scratched a bit. He'd used up his quota of sympathy, be darned if he was wasting any more of his time. "Well? What's it gonna be? You goin' on your own, or do I knock ya out and carry you?" 

Remy visibly flinched at the anger he heard Logan's voice. He immediately pulled Chat closer, knowing it was looking like he was trying to hide behind the dog, but unable to stop the instinctive fear born reaction. Faced with too much at once, he felt his mind locking down. The storm he'd been trying to avoid abruptly overwhelmed him, reasoned behaviour no longer possible. He'd known they still hated him, he'd just known it, and now Logan would…

Every trace of anger Logan felt abrubtly drained off, leaving him off balance. Was the Cajun…_afraid_ of him? Was this the same thief who'd made a game of stealing into his room and leaving a teddy bear on his pillow while he was sleeping, claiming he just looked so _cute_ that way? But he couldn't deny that Remy looked like he was trying to push back inside the tree he was sitting against. He held that dog any tighter and Chat'd choke.

Chat had remained quiet, knowing that this was something Remy would have to work out on his own, but if only Logan would not yell, it would be easier for his Remy. His Remy just needed some time to think. He looked at Logan with an appeal in his eyes. If he couldn't help, maybe Logan could?

Logan abruptly felt ashamed of himself, as if he'd been tormenting something helpless. That wasn't how he'd ever viewed the Cajun, but there was sure no denying what he was seeing now. He blew out a long sigh, and looked at the two before him.

He dropping into a kneeling position and placed a gentle hand on Remy's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Remy. I ain't got no call to be mad at you, and I'm sorry." 

Remy went immobile at the touch, his mind in spinning chaos, unable to think coherently.

Logan felt his stiffening, and he sure as spit didn't like to wonder about what had happened in the last couple of years to turn the devil-may-care Remy into the person he was looking at. God, he was acting like the abused kids he sometimes rescued from the streets and took to a shelter. Like he didn't know what to expect, and so was braced for everything.

He didn't know what was wrong, but seeing Remy like this, and comparing him to the old Remy finally had Logan admitting that he'd actually _liked_ the Cajun, and compassion softened his touch and his voice.

"Hey Cajun, it's okay. I'm not mad, the team's not mad. We'll make it okay, you'll be fine. What do ya say we head home and dump the whole mess on Scott? He ain't had a good mess to clean up in, oh, must be three or four days now. He's probably drivin' Jean nuts lookin' for trouble. Whaddaya say?" Logan did his best to keep his normal rumbling voice soothing, trying to quiet Remy out of his terror.

Remy's immobility faded at the gentleness Logan showed. "Just gotta think….just gotta…think….slow down…" His hands stopped clutching at Chat, and rose to cover his ears, as if he could block out the words in his head that seemed like they were shouting at him. "Just…stop…think…" He forced the words out, giving himself a focal point to work from.

Watching the Cajun trying so intensely to haul himself out of his panic attack was the last straw. Logan would never, ever be called an emotional person, but Remy had a problem, and his guilt would accept nothing less - he _had_ to do his best to help. It still felt odd to actually think of Remy his friend, but it didn't mean less for all that. Seeing Remy struggle with himself, watching him trying his best to handle it alone, looking so lost and lonely was too much.

"Ah to heck with it." He shifted, and abruptly lifted the dog off of Remy. Before the Cajun could react, Logan had him by the arms, and hauling the taller man to his feet, he hugged him, hard. "Damn it, you're killin' me here, kid. I'll fix it, all right? Whatever the hell it is, I'll fix it. Don't sweat it, we'll figure it out, 'kay? Just take it easy." He kept his tone light, his touch easy as his hands smoothed over Remy's back. "It's okay, kid, it's okay."

Remy was focused on the fact that Logan had _voluntarily_ touched him. Had offered something that he hadn't had since he was a child. Freely given kindness, and oh, god, how good this simple human contact felt.

Logan hadn't really thought about his actions, and so was unprepared when Remy's hands slowly, unsteadily rose to hug him back. When Logan didn't pull away, the hug grew fierce with the same desperate need Logan had seen moments before with Chat. Knowing better than to show any reaction that could set Remy off again, he simply allowed the hug, rather than squirming with the acute embarrassment he felt.

Logan's worry about the Cajun had returned, and was now increasing in leaps and bounds. Holding him like this, feeling each and every bone and tendon, it was glaringly apparent that Remy had lost a great deal of weight, and muscle. *Ain't much left of him. Damn, but what's happened here?* Something was wrong - really, _really_ wrong. He looked down at Chat, silently asking.

Remy heard the sigh Logan had given at Chat's lack of response, and having calmed down considerably, slowly pushed himself away from Logan, face averted with a wariness that Logan didn't want to see. 

"Sorry bout dat." He spoke with more huskiness than his injuries would account for. God, he was so embarrassed. He was used to the panic that came from having to react suddenly, but this was the first time it had happened in front of someone else, and _Logan_ of all people. He should probably just die right now.

"Better now?" Logan quirked a slight grin at Remy's small nod. "S'okay." He reached a hand out, and lifting off Remy's cap, ruffled the shaggy hair, accidently knocking his dark glasses askew.

Both of them froze, then Remy grabbed for the glasses, clumsily righting them on his nose.

Logan's voice could have been made of frozen helium. "Kid, I ain't mad at you, and I ain't gonna hurt you, but you tell me right damn now what happened."

"Remy stumbled back a step, before forcing himself to stop, and straighten his shoulders. *Been enough of a coward. Don' need to go provin' how much worse it can be. Not in front of Logan, not today, hehn?*

That didn't stop Remy from bypassing Logan's question. It was too disturbing right now. Instead, Remy carefully picked another thought to focus on, still trying to fend off the remnants of his anxiety. He cautiously turned so he was facing Chat. "So – you been holdin' out on me, pup." He could feel himself beginning to ease, Chat was completely non-threatening. His tone was softly amused; feeling and showing only affection.

Chat moved to sit beside Remy, and leaned against his knee, as if doing his best to keep Remy anchored, physically and mentally. *Not! Was only puppy, Cajun-Remy. Talk much more better now, yes?* He twisted his head to look up to Remy, his green eyes practically glowing with all the love he felt at finally having Remy where he belonged.

"Jus' Remy, li'l Chat. Don' know what to make of all dis, but I'm glad you're here. Didn' t'ink I'd ever see you 'gain. You got so big, pup." Unable to resist his awakened need to touch, he again dropped to his knees to hug the dog, losing himself in the waves of unconditional love that Chat projected so strongly.

Logan's eyes saw how Chat was sitting, as if an oncoming hurricane would simply have to go around him, and how tightly Remy clung to his solid bulk. He gave an inward grin as he saw how Remy's auburn hair melded with the russet of Chat's. Looking at the obvious bond between them, it was easy to see them as two pieces of the same whole. 

Seeing them together may have a gentling effect on his mood, but he still wanted an answer to his question. He went down on one knee beside them, and rested a hand on Remy's shoulder, letting him know he was there. He was beginning to see that Remy was easily startled, and it would be wise to take precautions against causing another panicked reaction.

"Kid, ya gotta tell me what's goin' on here. Can't help if I don't know where to start."

"Can't help. What you see is what you get wit' me dese days. Somewhere along de line, I broke." His words were matter of fact, for all that they were muffled by Chat's fur.

"That ain't what I was after hearin', Cajun. Your face is beat to heck an' gone, you look like you weigh half what you did when ya left, and the glasses may be the same, but what's behind 'em ain't. So we'll start with the damage. What happened to cause it?"

"Car accident." His hold on Chat tightened, then eased a bit as he forced himself to calm down before he provoked himself into another attack. He'd never seen Logan this way, and was feeling a desperate sort of gratitude for his surpirsingly easy manner. He'd only had Dakota for a few hours, and for that reason, things had gotten extreme right from the beginning with her. He didn't think he'd ever had someone other than her who was willing to be patient with him as he struggled for words. Since the accident, words took on a new ability. They weren't tools to manipulate others with, now they had a power of their own, and the more powerful, the harder they came to him.

"Was walkin'…car hit de pole…petite, he got hurt. Wen' to help …. de driver, couldn' get door open…charged it. Whole world wen' crazy." His explanation was choppy, and he knew it, but he didn't want to relive the details more than he had to. It was all he could do just to tell it with a few sentences. "Gas caught fire, I was standin' in it. Dat's all." He stiffened again, forcing back the memories of the hospital.

"Kid, why didn't ya call us? No, don't answer that. Guess I know why as well as anybody else why ya didn't." Logan fell silent for a minute, considering. 

"I… need to say somethin' to you." His hand was still on Remy's shoulder, but it tightened involuntarily as he forced himself to say words he didn't want to. He hadn't planned on making an acknowledgment of his guilt this soon, and he probably wouldn't have had he found Remy in prime condition. Now though, he could see that his silence had contributed heavily to this … devestation. Logan felt an elemental need to take the greater part of the burden away from Remy and onto his own shoulders. His words came from a place deep inside himself that he'd rarely acknowledged. 

"I treated you wrong before. I _knew_ you, Remy. I _knew_ you weren't the outsider we treated you like. But it wasn't what I _wanted_ to believe, so I did something I been ashamed of ever since. You'da stayed if even one of us had stood beside ya. I took the easy way out, and told myself it didn't matter. I owe you more than just sayin' I'm sorry. 

I'd watched you since the beginnin', and every move ya made since you got there was for a purpose. I spent more'n one night figurin' you out, and I probably learned you better'n anyone else on the team. _You ain't capable of deliberately hurtin' somebody_, Remy LeBeau. I ain't talkin' about the fights we been in with Magneto's group an' such, but I knew you. You'd been hurt so much there's no way in hell you could do anything that would cause pain to someone ya care about. Jean figured out some stuff about why the rest of the team was hatin' ya, but I ain't got their excuse. You never did one thing less than your best for the team, and I let ya down for a reason that ain't a reason. 

What I need to say is… It ain't gonna happen again. Not just 'cause I owe you, but 'cause you coulda been a friend like I don't remember ever havin'. Everybody else on the team wonders when I'm gonna lose it and go beserk. We get along allright, an' Jean and the Prof understand me better'n most, I guess. But none of 'em made me wanna just stay home an' play pool with 'em rather than hittin' Kelly's to play with strangers. Shoulda told ya sooner, an' I figger I lost my chance at it, but I guess now you need a friend like I shoulda been sooner. So, here I am, an' I _need_ to help. I ain't got no right ta ask, but please … come home?"

Remy absolutely could not understand where all this had come from. Logan was acting as unlike Logan as he could possibly be, and he was having some trouble taking all that he'd said in. But as Logan had said the word "friend", he felt it resonate inside him. He'd done his level best to not care what others had thought of him, but he now saw it for a pitifully thin and fragile mirror held over a desperate need. He needed to have friends. How could he have denied it? He could never have refused to love Chat, or Dakota. Now Logan was holding out a figurative hand to him, and Remy felt a small piece of himself slide back into it's proper spot. One small piece of his heart now felt new and shiny. The one person he'd figured would have gutted him on the spot was offering to be his friend, _and he meant every word_. 

At some point during Logan's explanation, his shields had opened, and he _felt_ the remorse, apology, and shame that Logan suffered. He also felt the absolute sincerity and warmth behind the words. 

Remy was overwhelmed. He couldn't trust his voice not to crack, so he loosened one of his hands from the grip they had on Chat, and held it out, waiting until Logan reached out to grasp it. Slowly, he choked out the words, wanting to give him something back in return for the priceless gift he'd been so straightforwardly offered. "You don' know … " he paused to coerce his voice into behaving, "You don' know what you give, homme. T'ank you. Firs' Chat, now you… t'ank you Logan. You gonna be a good frien' to have."

Logan cleared his throat, and shrugged uncomfortably. He'd reached his limit, and his discomfort with all the exposed nerves was testing his forbearance. He turned to the practicalities that needed to be addressed. "So – ya gonna come back with me or not?" 

The abrubt return of the Logan Remy knew so well made him smile. Logan studied him as hints of the old Remy's charm highlighted the damaged person he was now. He shook is head, scowled, and did his best to let it go. 

Remy drew in a deep breath, letting rivers off tension slide out as he exhaled. He felt curiously lighter for it. "Yeah, 'tink I will. But… can we maybe not … tell anybody jus' yet, hehn?" It wasn't that he didn't want to see the rest of the team, he just didn't want them to see him. Not yet, not till he could brace himself enough to handle it without letting them see the power they still held over him.

"Guess we can sneak ya in. I got a place in the woods. They leave me alone when I'm out there, so ain't nobody gonna come sneakin' up on ya." He debated forcing the issue, but it wasn't in his nature to be subtle or patient. "You know ya gotta face them sometime, right?"

Remy was too wrung out to tighten up again as he considered the idea. "Yeah, guess so, but not today. Jus' can' face it." He was silent for a moment. "Don' got anyt'ing to fall back on right now. Been dreamin' 'bout it, but never quite braved up to it. Dreamin' 'bout it not de same as doin' it." With painful honesty, he admitted, "Don' got not'ing left, Logan. Dey tell me to hit de road, an' I got nowhere lef' to go."

"Ain't gonna tell ya to hit the road. But you're gonna have to see that for yourself, I guess. But dang it kid, yer gonna have to do something soon, 'cause 'Ro's been tryin' to flood the mansion for months."

"Stormy…" He felt a welter of emotions break over him, but was just to tired to sort it all out. "Yeah. Missed her." He cocked his head in the exact same gesture Chat used. "Guess I even missed you too, Logan. Gotta move, Chat." As Chat scrambled off his lap, he exhaled noisily, and struggled to his feet, pulling himself up with the grip he still had on Logan's hand.

"Guess we'd best be headin out, no?" Remy unerringly turned in the direction of the estate, and with Logan and Chat forming the rest of the trio, Remy went home.


End file.
